Once in a Lifetime
by PaperMouse
Summary: When John Watson finds a young woman across the street, bruised and beaten, he takes her into 221B. Where she perks the interest of Mr. Sherlock Holmes. [ Sherlock/OC ]
1. Escape

_[ A/N ] Hello there! I was so nervous about posting this as it is my first fanfiction. Sorry if there are any mistakes.  
_

_Credit goes to the BBC for bringing the amazing Sherlock to our screens and talented Landon Austin for the amazing song 'Once in a Lifetime' which inspired me to write this.  
_

_Enjoy!_

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[ Once in a Lifetime ]  
[ _Chapter One_ ]

_A summer rain is passing over. And it feels like a dream.  
-Landon Austin 'Once in a Lifetime'_

**:: | :: | ::**

The night sky was covered in dark clouds as the weather settled into a gentle downpour. A young twenty something stumbled blindly through the dark, the rain tracing rivers on her face and dripping off the tip of her nose. She didn't know where she was going; she didn't even know where she was. All she knew is that she had to get as far away from this horrid place as possible.

She could barely feel her feet. She didn't know if they were numb from the cold or from the pain of running on gravel. That being said, her clothing was soaked so any other feeling she had left in her body was slowly fading. She wasn't wearing much in the first place, just a floral printed dress and denim jacket, the clothing she had been wearing when they took her. Her head spun to look behind her, nothing followed but darkness. Her legs pushed her forward as if on auto pilot, yet she felt as if she wasn't moving. She began to wonder if this was just another sick game they had decided to punish her with. That was when she started to make out the faint outline of a fence.

"No, no, no. Please no." she muttered under her breath. She turned to check behind her once more before approaching the fence. It was large, chain link, at least three meters high and topped with razor wire. Her breath began to quicken as she felt her heart beat faster. She walked along its perimeter; her hands frantically searching for an opening. She had walked at least thirty meters before she found a small cut where the fence joined to a poll. Kneeling down she pushed at the gap, creating a larger opening. She held it up as she forced her head and shoulders through before pulling the rest of her body to the other side. The fence snagged on her dress and created a large slash in the side.

She stood up, now covered in mud, adding to the blood on her stained clothing from her previous injuries. As she began running she tripped and fell. As she looked up she saw that she wasn't on gravel anymore, but on a road. Her vision started to blur as she looked to her left and saw the bright glow of the city. Careful not to fall again, she got up once more and foot by foot headed to the city.

**:: | :: | ::**

She had been ducking between alleyways and under bridges and overpasses for what seemed like an eternity. Sticking to the shadows; she begged her legs to push her further. She was sure they would be out looking for her, unless they thought she was already dead. The rain began to clear as she leaned against the wall of a thin alleyway, filled with rubbish, empty bottles and old cardboard boxes. Her head felt light as she fought to remain conscious. She didn't want to fall asleep, mainly because she was scared that if she did, she wouldn't wake up. Daylight had to come soon, she needed it to come soon. She was exhausted, dehydrated, hungry and frozen to the bone. Making it out of this alive would be a miracle. Looking around she tried to focus on something. Anything. That was when she saw a cab pull up across the street. Two men emerged from the cab. The first was tall, with dark hair and a dark coat. The second was much shorter with lighter hair and also wearing a dark coat. Her head lolled to the side as her vision began to blur again. Losing balance, despite leaning on the wall she fell towards the ground. Her arms catching her right before her head made contact with the concrete. Shutting her eyes tight she tried to shake the feeling before looking up again. The first man was gone but the second was making his way across the street.

She pushed herself back up and stumbled backwards towards the wall she had been leaning on earlier. The man from across the street approached her with worry written all over his face.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his eyes examining her injuries in the dim light. He saw very little of her face as it was mostly covered in her dark, long tangled hair. But what he could see there were bruises along with a few visible cuts littered across her face and neck, her clothes were covered in blood that he assumed was her own. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out "You're hurt" he stated simply. She looked down at her clothing and shut her eyes tight, trying to shake the dizziness she was feeling before looking back up at him. "Look, I'm a doctor I can –" his voice sounded hollow and faded away as her vision blurred once more and she began to waver to the side. She didn't even feel the hand he put on her shoulder to steady her before she collapsed onto the ground.

**:: | :: | ::**

"Sherlock!" John Watson yelled up the stairs of 221B. "Sherlock! I need your help!" when there wasn't an answer from his flat mate he uttered a few words under his breath as he grabbed the handrail. He had the unconscious girl draped over his shoulders, which had made him slightly unbalanced, he had carried people this way before, multiple times actually; it was an almost daily occurrence when he was serving in Afghanistan. He cautiously ascended the stairwell keeping a firm grip on the handrail.

When he finally reached the top, he saw Sherlock's coat and scarf hanging on the door, the man himself was lying on the couch. His eyes were closed and his fingertips pressed together, resting on his chin. "Sherlock, do you think you could sit somewhere else?" John asked quietly, his voice slightly straining from having to carry the girl up the flight of stairs.

"Shhh John, I'm thinking" he replied calmly. Not even moving an inch.

"Sherlock." John said firmly. He adjusted the girl's position as Sherlock released a loud sigh and tilted his head back over the arm of the couch. He opened one eye to look at John and the odd girl draped across his shoulders whom he had just noticed. Silence filled the room as Sherlock wandered across to the window. John gently put the girl on the couch. Gently he removed her jacket and put her into the recovery position. Before hurrying out of the room and downstairs; presumably to Mrs Hudson.

Sherlock watched the sleeping girl; her clothing was soaked, as was her hair. She was very pale, the only colour on her body came in a mixture of dirt and blood along with the various cuts and bruises she had on her face and neck; yet she seemed familiar. There was blood soaked into the collar and left shoulder of her jacket which had many rips, but rips that were made purposely rather than accidentally. She wore a flora printed dress that came to just above her knees; there was a large slash in the side which he deduced was caused by the dress getting caught on something. She had bare feet, both of which were very dirty; her shoes were nowhere to be seen. Then there were her legs, both knees were grazed and her right one was currently bleeding. He was about to examine her closer when he heard John ascending the stairs. He returned to look out of the window occasionally glancing back towards John and the unconscious stranger to whom he was tending.

**:: | :: | ::**

It was almost two in the morning when he decided to recline to his chair. He hadn't said anything all night John had explained to him everything he knew about the girl including the fact that he assumed she had hyperthermia but that aside that information everything John had given him was utterly useless. So he returned his mind to the case that Lestrade had given him. Three murders in the past month, all the same. Cause of death; a single stab wound to the heart. Following the murder the killer would prop their victim up into a chair, leaving the murder weapon in the corpse. He was about to go over the crime scene when there was a throaty scream to his left.

John rushed out of the kitchen and over to the girl who was now sitting upright and breathing heavily. "You're alright, you're alright. You're safe now" John said in a hushed voice. After he managed to calm down the young woman, he helped her sit up and gave her a glass of water. "My name is John Watson. I'm a doctor, I found you across the street. You were in a bad state"

"Wh—" her voice croaked as she began to speak "Where am I?" she enquired slowly her voice barely audible.

"221B Baker Street" John's head spun round, he was about to answer the woman when Sherlock spoke first, his sight fixed on the girl as he stood up. "May I have you name?" she looked at him with wide eyes, unsure of whether to answer. "Your name." He prompted.

"Sherlock don't." John warned as he looked back at the girl. She swallowed and then replied.

"Gwen. Gwendolyn Bishop."

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_So there was the first chapter. I hope you enjoyed :) Please remember to review and tell me what you think, if you have any ideas or suggestions please, please, please let me know and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!_


	2. Gwendolyn Bishop

_[ A/N ] Hello again, here is the next chapter. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and followed! I would give you all cookies of your choice but that's a bit difficult through the internet._

_Enjoy!  
_

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[ Once in a Lifetime ]  
[ _Chapter Two_ ]

"_Just because it burns, doesn't mean you're going to die. You've got to get up and try, try, try."  
-Pink 'Try'_

**:: | :: | ::**

"Gwendolyn Bishop. Gwendolyn Bishop. Gwendolyn Bishop." Sherlock paced the room as he muttered the name under his breath. He was accessing every part of his memory. Why? Because he had heard that name before. This girl, the one who had just woken up on his couch was oddly familiar to him. He just didn't know how.

John in the meantime had turned his attention away from Sherlock. "Look, Gwen?" he paused and waited until she nodded before he continued "I would like to call you an ambulance so you can get a proper check up at the hospital, but I'm afraid at this time in the morning, accident and emergency is full of drunks" he looked up at the clock which read 2:12am "So, I'll call you one later on in the morning when you'll have a better chance at getting straight through and you can spend the rest of the night here. Either way you'll have to wait a few hours, so at least here you'll be comfortable." She nodded in response as John gave her a warm smile.

"What's the date?" she asked, her voice sounding stronger as she began to relax a little.

"The date?" John repeated.

"Yes John, the date. Didn't you hear her?" Sherlock stopped pacing and turned to face Gwen, she was beginning to get more colour in her face and appeared to be relaxing but he noticed her eyes were still scared, extremely scared. Whatever she had been through it was no walk in the park. "Eighteenth of March, Twenty twelve" he stated, watching closely for her reaction.

"I- I need to call my dad" she stuttered as she began to stand, suddenly looking very uneasy, John gently pushed her back down and handed her his phone out of his pocket. "Thank you" she managed a weak smile and began to dial her father's number. Silence filled the room as she held the phone to her ear, when nobody picked up she left a small message on voicemail. "Dad? It's me Gwen. I'm okay." She said in disbelief. She lingered on the line for a minute, unsure what to say, when she couldn't think of anything else she pressed the end button and handed to phone back to John.

"Of course, of course!" Sherlock said with excitement, "How did I not realise earlier?" he asked himself rather than anyone else. He clapped his hands together causing Gwen to flinch slightly "Your name is Gwendolyn Bishop, your father's name is Charles Bishop. You're twenty-six years old and went missing less than three months ago on January twenty-fourth. Presumed dead. Prior to going missing you worked as a librarian at the British Library. Your father was and still is might I add a professor at the University of Cambridge. You were meeting a couple of friends at a café when you were kidnapped."

He rushed over to the table and started sorting through various pieces of paper, throwing old books and brown files on the ground until he found what he was looking for. He held a newspaper up, which dated back to the 31st of January. It had a picture of a girl with a large mass of brown ringlets and dark green eyes. The headline above the picture was bold and read _MISSING. _"And that was only the information I got from the papers. I also know that you've been missing for approximately fifty three days. Judging by the state of your feet you've been traveling on foot for a long time. The grazes on your knees indicate that you've either had a very harsh fall or you've been dragged around, looking at your hair I would say the latter. You have bruises on the right side of your face as well as a small split on the right side of your lip this means your attacker was most likely left handed—"

"Sherlock, a word please" John interrupted as he got up from where he had been kneeling and walked into the kitchen. He turned to glace back at Gwen, who had tears pooling in her eyes to make sure she was out of earshot before facing Sherlock. "Now is not the time to be showing off" he said in a hushed but firm tone "Look at her! She's in shock and you're not helping by bringing back the memories of what she's been through!"

"I was simply—" Sherlock started before he was interrupted by John once more.

"Stating what you noticed, yes I understand that" He sighed and softened his expression "All I'm trying to say is that this isn't a corpse we're talking about. She is very much alive and very much terrified" There was a short silence before Sherlock headed into his bedroom while John walked back into the living room.

While the two men had been talking in the kitchen, Gwen picked up the newspaper that was sitting on the coffee table; she began to read the article on the inside of the front page, it contained another picture of her, one that had been taken with her father. Her father was slightly taller than her, with lighter hair littered with the occasional grey patch. He wore large glasses and had a small scruff of a beard. She smiled at the picture; her father was the only real family she had left.

"Gwen" she looked up from the paper, it was John. "I assume you would like to take a shower and change into some clean clothes"

She nodded "That would be lovely" her voice quiet as she spoke. She watched as John walked over the small table by the door where he picked up a pile of clothes.

"These should fit you fine" he said as he handed her the clothes "They're from landlady downstairs, Mrs Hudson. I don't even know why she has these; I've never seen her wear them. Oh and when you're done with the clothes you're wearing I can get them washed for you."

"Thank you John. You've been so kind" She smiled at him as he showed her the bathroom.

**:: | :: | ::**

For the first time in three months Gwen looked at herself in the mirror. She had bruises on the right side of her face as Sherlock said. She also had bruises on her neck and arms. Her hair was a mess, tangled and sticking out in all directions. But the worst was the cut that ran from behind her left ear and under her jaw. The cut had begun to heal, it wasn't very deep aside from the start of the cut, behind her ear; she hoped it wouldn't scar.

She stood under the warm spray of the shower, the water washing away all the blood and dirt of the last three months. She decided to only take a short shower as she was extremely tired and emerged from the warm spray to put on the clothes she had been given.

When she was done she was dressed in a light grey tank top with darker grey sweatpants and dark blue cardigan. She had towel dried her hair, and pulled it back off her face with a hair tie that was on the top of the pile of clothes John had given her. Whoever this Mrs Hudson was she was a very thoughtful person.

"So, you can take my room. It's just upstairs. If you need anything I'll be down here" she heard John offer as she entered the room.

"Oh no, it's fine really. You've already done so much for me. I am certainly not taking your bed as well" she watched as John got up and took her dress from her hands as well as the jacket that had been thrown over the top of the couch.

"Are you sure? It's not going to bother me"

"Yes John, I'll take the couch" she paused and took a breath "After sleeping what I assumed was a budget prison mattress I'm sure the couch will feel like a cloud."

He chuckled a bit "Well, I'll be upstairs then and Sherlock is in the room next to the bathroom, if you'll be needing him for god knows what" he started walking out of the room to put the jacket and dress in the washing machine and head off to bed himself pausing in the doorway he looked back at the young woman who was making herself comfortable on the couch "Sleep well Gwen"

Gwen smiled back and watched as he closed the door, she was exhausted and surprised to be alive. If it wasn't for John she was sure she would be dead and she couldn't believe it.

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_Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed, please remember to review and if you think any characters are getting OOC let me know!_


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